


Hero

by Klitch



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 03:53:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4989229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klitch/pseuds/Klitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That he couldn’t remember the first time he’d protected Saruhiko from harm wasn’t really going to stop Yata from doing it one more time, again and again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hero

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the 'First Contact' short comic that came bundled with volume 2 of the Lost Small World manga, with Yata and Fushimi meeting as kids. I almost just posted this to Tumblr but I feel like I haven't posted a one-shot properly forever so here we are.

The afternoon air was hot and stale, and even inside Bar Homra with the air conditioner running it was hard not to feel tired. Despite that there was still a group crowded along the far side of the bar, talking and laughing and making a fuss, not caring about the way the lights were too bright and the sound was too loud. That was how it felt to Fushimi, anyway, sitting on a stool in the corner by himself, nursing a popsicle in one hand and holding his PDA in the other as he tried his best to ignore the pounding headache being brought on by the loud annoying idiots on the other side of the room. 

And if his eyes occasionally strayed towards one particularly loud idiot with red hair, well, that was only a coincidence and Fushimi irritably focused on his popsicle. It was already melting, dripping down onto his fingers, cold and sticky and almost enough to distract him from all the noise. 

“But you were always doing cool things like that, Yata-san!” Kamamoto slapped Yata on the back, laughing in response to some stupid comment Fushimi hadn't heard. “Remember that one time when we were kids, on the bus?” 

“Eh? You still remember that?” Yata straightened a little, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, I guess I was pretty cool that time. My mom yelled at me about it later though, since we broke my bike.” 

“You were really great then, though! Like a superhero.” 

“Ah, well, I guess. A hero...” Yata's eyes strayed towards Mikoto lying on the couch in the center of them all, eyes closed but only maybe asleep. Fushimi followed the line of his gaze and his fingers twitched just a bit. 

“So what'd you do?” The others were crowding around even closer, almost blocking Yata from view and Fushimi lowered his eyes. 

“Yata-san saved me from a robber!” Kamamoto said proudly. “We were on this bus when we were just kids and a guy who'd just robbed a bank tried to hijack it and then when the guy was attacking this other kid Yata-san hit him right in the back and protected us and everything. It was really impressive, Yata-san!” 

“Well what else do you expect from a cool guy like me?” Yata laughed, too loud, face a little red. 

They were all talking and laughing in the circle, even Kusanagi and Totsuka, and so no one noticed Fushimi sitting there in the corner alone. No one saw him stiffen slightly, no one saw his eyes widen just a little as he looked at Yata as though seeing something brand new for the first time. 

Then Fushimi's figure hunched again, eyes dropping back to his PDA as he clicked his tongue and whispered quietly to himself, 

“Stupid.” 

– 

Yata awoke in the dark, feeling weirdly sore and a little numb, detached almost, and he wasn't sure where he was. His ribs ached and he was staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. Machines beeped behind him and his eyes slid to the IV attached to one bandaged arm. 

_Hospital..._ His mind wasn't quite catching up to the rest of him as quickly as usual and he wondered if there were painkillers in that IV and that was why he was feeling so floaty. Well, it wasn't like it was the first time he'd ever been in a hospital. Yata took a deep slow breath, trying to remember how he'd gotten here. 

It had been a Strain, right? No–a group of them, holding some kids hostage. Homra had gotten there first but Scepter 4 had shown up right after. They were technically in an alliance now so Yata knew he hadn't had any room to complain about it but it was still annoying, especially after they'd started throwing their weight around and saying stupid shit like “this is Scepter 4's job” and all that crap, acting so high and mighty like they were the only ones who could handle situations like this. Then Saruhiko had stepped out of the van and-- 

_Saruhiko._

Yata sat up straight immediately and regretted it half a moment later as pain shot through his body. He slumped just a bit, eyes adjusting in the dark so that he could see the bandages around his torso and one arm and then he finally saw it, the figure slumped over in a chair next to the bed, head resting on the mattress just by Yata's feet. 

_Saruhiko._ Yata reached out carefully with his good hand to touch Saruhiko's tousled hair. He could remember a bit clearer now, Saruhiko telling him to go away and that he'd handle it, and not even giving Yata a minute to disagree even though they weren't enemies anymore. Yata hadn't listened to him anyway because there was no way he was just sitting by while there were people in danger and he'd had Kamamoto distract the other Blues for just long enough so that Yata could go after Saruhiko. He'd managed to get within sight of Saruhiko when there'd been some kind of explosion and then Saruhiko had been hit by – something – Yata either hadn't seen it or couldn't remember it but it had definitely been a Strain's power. Whatever it was, Saruhiko had been hit by it and he'd tumbled to the ground gasping and convulsing and that was when Yata had jumped in front of him, arms out, only thought in his mind that he had to protect Saruhiko– 

–And then he'd woken up in the hospital, covered in bandages, with Saruhiko asleep at his bedside. 

Asleep at Yata's bedside when he should probably be asleep in his _own_ hospital bed, Yata thought with some indignation. From what he could see Saruhiko didn't look much better than Yata felt, one wrist set with a splint and a bandage peeking out from under his hair, in a hospital gown and there was his own IV there too. For a moment Yata wondered why Saruhiko had even been let out of his own room in the first place when he realized that there was a second empty hospital bed in the room beside his, with a familiar blue coat folded on the small table beside it. 

So they'd been put in the same room and the stupid monkey couldn't just rest properly like he needed. Yata supposed the Blue King had probably had something to do with the shared room and his eyes narrowed just a bit; that guy better not expect any gratitude from Yata over that. 

Well, not _a lot_ of gratitude anyway, and Yata found himself unconsciously checking over Saruhiko's sleeping form for any injuries that might have been missed. 

Saruhiko looked paler than usual and thin in the hospital gown, and he'd probably unplugged who-knew-what just to cross the couple of feet between their beds. Yata shook his shoulder gently, mindful of both their injuries. 

“Hey. Saruhiko.” Yata's voice sounded hoarse to his own ears and he wondered how long he'd been out. Saruhiko's bandages still looked pretty fresh so it couldn't have been long. “Saruhiko. Come on, wake up.” 

Saruhiko stirred a little and then raised his head. There were bags under his eyes and he looked so tired and worn out that for a moment Yata wished he'd just let Saruhiko sleep. 

“...Misaki?” His voice was slightly slurred and Yata wondered what kind of painkillers they were both on right now. 

“Yeah, I'm here. You okay?” 

“Tch. I should be asking you that.” Painkillers or not, it wasn't enough to change Saruhiko's mood _that_ much. Yata wondered if he should ring a nurse to up the dosage. “You almost got killed, you idiot.” 

Yata thought there might have been a shake in his voice but it was hard to be sure. 

“It takes more than that to kill me.” Whatever 'that' was, since he didn't quite recall, and Yata tried to sit up a little straighter to show Saruhiko how fine he was. Immediately a dull pain shot through his spine and Yata bit back a whimper. 

Saruhiko was staring at him with eyes that suddenly seemed too wide, face stark white in the low light and impulsively Yata reached out a hand again, touching his shoulder as if trying to calm down a frightened animal. 

“Seriously, Saruhiko, I'm okay. I mean–all right, maybe not _okay,_ since we're in the hospital and all but I don't feel that bad. A little shaky, I guess and there's all these bandages on me but it doesn't hurt too bad and I think I'm okay.” He was maybe babbling but Yata couldn't help it, the hazy feeling already in his head replaced by an almost dizzying sense of relief that what he was saying was true. They _were_ all right, after all, him and Saruhiko both, and that was something to be happy about. “Anyway you don't look that much better. Shouldn't you be in bed too?” 

“Worry about yourself.” Saruhiko immediately pulled away. “I'm fine.” 

“Really? You look like shit to me.” 

“I don't want to hear that from someone who's been unconscious for the last few hours.” There was a definite shake to Saruhiko's voice now and Saruhiko seemed to realize it as much as Yata did, judging by the way his expression darkened along with an irritated click of his tongue. 

He really did look worn out, Yata thought. His wounds didn't seem to be as bad as Yata's were but his color was bad – more so than usual, anyway – and there was something brittle in the way his fingers clenched against the blankets of Yata's hospital bed. 

“Well, I'm awake now,” Yata said quickly, trying to sound energetic and maybe overcompensating just a bit into 'slightly deranged' instead. “So you can get some rest now, right? Seriously, monkey, I get knocked out for just a little while and you're already trying to get yourself sick. Go get some sleep.” 

“Not tired.” The drowsiness in Saruhiko's voice belied his words. His shoulders were noticeably hunched and he was scratching at his wrist where the IV was attached. 

“Did we kick those guys' asses, at least?” Yata asked. Had things gone wrong? Maybe that was why Saruhiko seemed so twitchy, he'd never liked when his plans didn't work out right and there'd been lives on the line this time. “I don't really remember a lot of it...” 

“I took care of it.” Saruhiko's voice was flat and he stirred slightly, moving as if to stand. His stance was noticeably unstable and Yata immediately rose up a little himself, ignoring the quick spike of pain the movement caused, unconsciously reaching forward as if he could somehow grab Saruhiko's hand and steady him. Abruptly Saruhiko sat back down, one hand going to his head. There was a long silence, broken only by Saruhiko's harsh breathing. 

“Do you need me to call a nurse or something to help?” Yata said hesitantly, after the silence had stretched too long. 

“...Protect me.” It was only a whisper, a staggered breath, and Yata couldn't quite make out the words inside of it. 

“Huh?” 

“I said, you don't have to protect me.” Saruhiko's head was down and in the dim light it was impossible to make out his expression. The line of his shoulders was tense, though. “I don't need an idiot like you to step in front of me as if it makes you some kind of hero. I can handle myself. I don't need you to protect me.” 

“I—I know that,” Yata said, confused. “I just...you were in trouble, right? I couldn't just stand there and–” 

“Shut up!” Saruhiko cut him off sharply. “You're an idiot, Misaki, a complete and utter moron. Always trying to save your precious _comrades_ and not thinking a bit about yourself. I don't need you to do that for me. I can save myself.” 

“You were about to get killed!” Yata shot back. Yelling immediately made everything hurt and Yata shot a quick glance towards the door, momentarily worried that their conversation would attract a nurse. “You—you got hit by something, right? My head's kinda fuzzy right now but I remember you couldn't move well and–” 

“I was fine,” Saruhiko said. “I would have been fine. There was no reason for you to jump in and take my hits for me.” 

“But...” There was something fluttery in Yata's chest, a tightness in his throat and a jumping of his pulse as though there was something he wanted to say but couldn't quite find the words for it. “I was—I was _worried_ about you, you know! I thought that–” 

“Thought?” Saruhiko scoffed coldly. “You never think, Misaki. You just jump in front of any danger you find, just like an idiot does, like a kid who doesn't understand that there aren't any heroes. And where does that get you? A hospital bed. If you'd just stayed out of it I could've taken care of everything on my own.” 

“Says the guy who's _also_ covered in bandages,” Yata shot back. “What's your problem, Saruhiko? I was only--” 

“You might not have woken up.” Saruhiko's voice was low and pained, each word spat out as though it had become lodged in his throat and there was no way to swallow it back down. “You don't need to save me anymore, Misaki. I'm fine. It's too late for you to start acting like my hero.” 

“I'm all right, though.” Yata reached out carefully, touching Saruhiko's hand. Saruhiko's skin jumped just a bit under his touch but he didn't pull away and Yata took that as a good sign. “I'm all right, Saruhiko. So are you. So it's fine, right? We made it out okay. You don't have to worry.” 

“Not worried,” Saruhiko mumbled, the lie so clear in his tone that Yata suspected even he didn't believe those words. “I'm just trying to knock some sense into your stupid head, that's all. Stop trying to play the hero all the time and worry about yourself.” 

“I was worried about myself,” Yata said with a shrug. “But I was worried about you more.” 

“That's why I call you an idiot,” Saruhiko said. “I don't want a hero. I already...you already...” He clicked his tongue and scratched at the IV distractedly, the wrappings a little frayed under his fingers. His voice was far away again, slow and ragged, and Yata felt as though there was something underneath the tone that he couldn't quite place. 

“Saruhiko?” Yata attempted quietly. 

“Don't save me anymore,” Saruhiko murmured. “Don't—you _always_ do this. Even that time on the bus, you're still just an idiot like that, jumping in to things to save people who never asked for your help.” 

“Bus?” Yata repeated, confused. Maybe he was on more pain medicine than he thought. Saruhiko was showing definite signs that he'd said something he didn't intend to, though, and it made Yata want to push just a bit more. “Wait, what are you talking about?” 

“I didn't need a hero then, either.” Saruhiko continued as if Yata hadn't even spoken. “I didn't need anyone to save me. I wasn't scared. Looking at your back, it made me sick. That's all. Wondering who that moron was, who would stand in front of someone he didn't even know and hold his arms out like that.” Saruhiko pressed a hand against his chest. “If this is what happens when you protect me I don't want it. Better I get hurt than...” 

“I don't know what you're–” And even as he spoke the image fluttered through Yata's mind, a time long ago that he'd almost forgotten about, a bus, a man in a mask, a kid in glasses whose face he hadn't quite seen... “W-wait, wait, that was _you?_ That was–but—why didn't you _say_ anything, like when we met in school or–” 

“I didn't know then,” Saruhiko said dismissively, as if he hadn't been the one to bring it up in the first place. “That fatty mentioned it one day in Homra and I realized, that's all.” 

“So why didn't you say anything then?” Yata wondered. He found himself starting to smile a little and he wasn't sure why. “I mean...it's cool, isn't it? That we met back then and–” 

“If you didn't remember I don't see why it should be my job to say anything,” Saruhiko said, tone familiar and sulky. 

“But I _did_ remember!” Yata said. “I just...didn't know it was you. I didn't get a good look at your face that time. And _anyway_ , if Kamamoto hadn't said anything you wouldn't have known it was me either!” 

“It's not like it would have mattered.” Saruhiko shrugged. “You wouldn't have looked at me then anyway. I didn't do anything. I didn't stand in front of anyone like a moron who thinks he's a hero.” 

“That's not true, though.” Yata's voice was quiet and forceful. “ _You_ saved _me_ , remember? With those fireworks. You were the guy who did all the hard stuff. I thought you were really smart and brave too. Like when all the other kids were being rounded up and crying and everything you didn't even flinch. And then you pulled out those fireworks, you made a plan to take that guy down and everything. All I could do was run around slamming into things without thinking. I thought I was being cool at the time, but...but I didn't really do anything that great, I guess.” 

“You did.” Saruhiko's voice was so quiet Yata almost didn't hear it. His eyes were half-closed and he was wavering slightly where he sat, as if all the talking had drained his strength. “You protected me. Like a real hero. That's what I really thought then. Even when I couldn't remember your face, I would always see your back, sometimes, when I was sitting in that house wishing someone would take me away from there. I know heroes don't exist. I always knew that, even from the start. But still...I always remembered your back. Because you were the closest thing I'd ever seen to a hero, then.” 

“Saruhiko...” Yata risked reaching out to run a hand through Saruhiko's hair. Instead of pulling away as Yata had half-expected him to, Saruhiko leaned in slightly. His breathing was uneven and weary and Yata wondered exactly how long Saruhiko had been sitting there fighting drugs and sleep, waiting for Yata to wake up. “I'm not gonna apologize for protecting you, you know? I mean...I kinda know what you're saying. About heroes and all. I thought Mikoto-san was a hero and I never really thought about who he really was, like I always saw him as this larger than life guy who saved us – saved _you_ , when I couldn't – and then in the end I never really understood him at all. But—but to me, something like putting myself in front of you...it wasn't because I wanted to be a hero. I just...I just couldn't stand it if something bad happened to you and I didn't even try to stop it. You're important to me and—and if I can't even keep you safe–” 

“I don't need you to do that.” Saruhiko laid his head wearily against Yata's palm. “I'm not a child anymore, Misaki. I don't need to see your back now.” 

“I know,” Yata said, smiling slightly. “But...I _want_ to. I want to be the guy who keeps you safe, so you don't have to worry about stuff like heroes who don't show up. Because you're important to me. I want to protect you. And, you know, it's not like I'm worried about being killed anyway, because I know you'll keep me safe too. We're partners, right? We've been partners even before we really knew each other. So let me take care of you sometimes, okay?” 

There was no answer and for a moment Yata thought Saruhiko had fallen back asleep. Finally there was a soft click of Saruhiko's tongue and he turned his head a little so that Yata could finally see his face. 

“If you die before me, I'll kill you,” Saruhiko said softly and Yata laughed – and then wished he hadn't, because that hurt more than expected. But he couldn't stop the smile as Saruhiko reached up with his good hand to clutch at Yata's wrist, face still cupped in the palm of Yata's hand. 

“Yeah, well don't you go dying on me either,” Yata said. “You better eat your vegetables and get decent sleep and everything. I didn't save your life from that guy on the bus just for you to drop dead of malnutrition.” 

“I thought you said you didn't do anything.” There was a soft teasing lilt in Saruhiko's tone, almost hidden underneath the layers of haze and weariness. “Wasn't I the one being the most cool there?” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever monkey. Shouldn't you get back to your own bed now? You don't look a lot better than me, you know.” 

“I like staying here.” Saruhiko's voice was just a whisper now, clearly having to struggle to keep himself awake. 

Yata sighed and rolled his eyes a bit, but even so he moved over just slightly in the bed. 

“Okay, okay, but at least rest against me a little, all right? You're gonna be sore in the morning.” 

“So will you.” The comeback was half-hearted and slurred, and Saruhiko's movements were sluggish as he carefully repositioned the chair and IV poles and the cords and blankets, leaning forward so that his head was resting on the pillow just beside Yata's. His eyes were nearly closed and Yata could feel Saruhiko's breath on his cheeks, warm and close and he almost wanted to lean in further, closer, catch that breath with his own, but he couldn't quite seem to move. 

“Saruhiko?” Yata attempted and Saruhiko made a small noise, just enough to indicate that he was awake but not for much longer, and Yata moved one stiff arm so that their hands could touch. “I'm here, okay? I've always been here since even before we knew each other, so...” 

“I know.” Saruhiko's voice was far away but his fingers tightened just a bit against Yata's hand. “I know that, idiot.” 

Yata managed a small laugh and let his own eyes slide closed, relaxing against the pillow as he fell asleep with one hand still held tight against Saruhiko's.


End file.
